Through The Noise
by Lady Sauce
Summary: PERMANENT HIATUS. God, I'm sick of SasoDei. Sorry.
1. Milk

It's Saturday night. I want to sleep, or maybe just work, here, alone, in the silence. But it's Saturday night and I live in an apartment. I slam my fist into the wall, furious at no one in particular for having a good time and drinking a bit too much and having their music turned on a bit too loud. I curse those kids next door for partying here instead of in one of their fancy clubs.  
_Those kids.  
_Ha. I'm scarcely more than a kid myself, but somehow I find myself being so much more mature than those idiots dancing away to some techno crap on the other side of my excruciatingly thin wall. I briefly consider yelling some nasty insult at the morons, but I know I'm better than that so I just ignore them. Hopefully sooner or later they'll quiet down or move the party elsewhere. _Ha._ Of course they won't.

It's Monday morning, about nine o' clock. I woke up hours ago – I barely ever sleep - but why should I bother going anywhere? I don't work, since my grandmother died a few years ago and I got all her money. I have no friends – not that I need them. Hence, there's hardly ever a reason to leave my apartment.  
I never have much of an appetite when I wake up, thus I've waited till now with my breakfast. I make my way over to the fridge. _Fuck_. There's no milk. I desperately need my waffles in the morning – it's a habit I've had since childhood – so I'll just have to go buy some milk. _Fuuck._ I wasn't planning on going anywhere! I was planning on sitting at home, making my art, in my blissful silence and solitude. _Not_ go to a stupid, noisy supermarket with stupid, noisy people to buy _milk._ I frown irritably, grab my keys and cell and start half-walking, half-running to the supermarket. It's a short walk, and it's a beautiful day, but I don't particularly feel like stopping to enjoy the sunshine. When I get to the supermarket, I just walk straight past the people and the shelves and the _noise _and to the dairy section. I grab a few cartons of milk and make my way to the register.  
A gasp.  
A glimpse of blonde hair.  
Then, a loud _thud _and before I know it I'm on the floor and one of the milk cartons is broken and there's milk all over my shirt and the person in front of me is angry and I can't see why.  
"Hey, redhead! Watch where the fuck you're going, un!!"  
The person – is it a girl or a boy? – is glaring daggers at me, but at the sight of my usual icy cold glare he – I'm almost certain it's a he – pulls back in what may or may not be fear.  
"Shut the hell up and get me a new carton of milk, blondie. Congratulations, you just might have ruined my day!"  
He flinches and looks away.  
"I-I'm sorry, un… I'll pay for your shirt."  
Then he gets a dangerous glint in his eyes as he smiles at me.  
"Or… I could take you out to lunch, un."  
I raise an eyebrow.  
"I've never met you before, you just ruined my shirt and a carton of perfectly good milk, and you want me to have _lunch _with you?"  
"Why not? I've apologized by going on dates with people before, un, and I don't see why you should be any different!"  
"Thanks, but I don't date whores. Will you please give me my money and get out of my face?"  
He looks shocked. And angry. I think he was under the impression that I somehow _liked_ him.  
The idiot.  
"That was extremely rude. But I'm going to be nice and say we can still have lunch. Come on… it won't even be a date! Just an apology, un."  
I sigh.  
"Will you keep annoying me until I say yes?"  
"Yes, un!"  
"Then fine."  
He squeals – stupid girly fuck – and smiles widely.  
"I'll give you my phone number, un!"


	2. To date a whore

I'm sitting in my kitchen, having dinner. I'm still annoyed for accepting Deidara's – what a fucking _ugly _name – invitation. Now I'll have to have lunch with _him_, one of those horrible, _noisy_ people I resent so much. How? How did this happen? I must be losing my mind.  
The phone rings. I answer it, despite my better judgment; yes, of course. It's _him._  
"Hi, Sasori, un!" he chirps, as despicably happy as I predicted.  
"Why hello, Deidara. What do you want?"  
"Have you had dinner yet, un?"  
"...I was just about to... why?"  
"Look out the window, un."  
And I venture over to my window and I tear open the curtain and I look down and there, on the ground, six stories down – there he is. I'm totally put off by this. He looks up at me, smiles and waves. I open the window, hang up on him and proceed to shout instead.  
"How did you find this place?!"  
"I looked you up on the internet! Come on down, Sasori... I'll take you out for dinner. I guarantee it'll be better than whatever you're having up there, un."  
Great. A stalker.  
"Name one good reason."  
"I spent a lot of time and money cooking for you, un."  
I frown. He cooked? That stupid little _freak._ He does want to make this a date; I don't. He just made it harder.  
But he spent his money on me.  
"Fine. Just wait there."  
I close the window, shove my plate of cold pasta back into the fridge and make my way to the bedroom. I never feel the need to dress up for people, but I'm wearing sweat pants and an oversized shirt; my pajamas. I've got _some_ dignity. I undress, snatch out a pair of slim fit, deep black jeans and a thin, tight shirt with thick black and white stripes. It's not fancy, but not too casual; this is the way I usually dress. I grab my keys and cell, walk out of the apartment and lock the door behind me. Then, as quickly as possible since I don't like people waiting for me, I make my way down the cluttered, bad-smelling stairwell.  
When I'm finally outside, the cool night air feels intoxicatingly good against my skin. I always have enjoyed being out at night. Deidara is grinning at me; again I find myself loathing his constant happiness. He's wearing loose pants with thin vertical stripes and a baggy knitted shirt in a deep shade of foresty green. It reminds me of moss. I find myself wanting to bury my face in the fabric to see if there's dew in it.  
"Sasori, un?"  
I snap out of my annoying thoughts about his sweater and manage a glare.  
"What? Let's get going, I don't want to be standing around here all night."  
"Sure."  
He starts walking – away from the lights and the people and the _noise_, despite my guesses about him being a city boy – and I follow him. At a safe distance, of course. He's smiling to himself and quietly humming some melancholic-sounding song that doesn't fit any part of him at _all._It annoys me, though I'm not quite sure why. I always have been quite the perfectionist, I guess.  
Apart from his humming, we walk in silence. I watch him boredly as he half walks, half skips down the road. Every once in a while he turns around and grins like a lunatic at me. For every time he does that I walk just a bit further away from him. He notices this, I think, because he chuckles slightly to himself whenever I do it.  
I'm not sure how long we walk; probably around fifteen minutes. I find myself wondering if that food he was talking about is getting cold. Or maybe he was lying and he's buying pizza? It wouldn't surprise me one bit. He looks lazy.  
And then all of a sudden we're there and he's walking up a stone path and above there's a house. It's big and white and looks old. The windows are ridiculously huge. I stare at it. I didn't quite expect this.  
"Welcome to my home, un. It's not beautiful, but..."  
"No, I like it."  
He's put off by this; so am I, actually. I shrug it off and tell myself it _wasn't wasn't wasn't_ a compliment. I don't compliment people like him. He laughs slightly, walks up to me and grabs my hand – I flinch at this – and pull me towards the house. Stupid. Unnecessary. I growl and glare daggers at him; he doesn't notice, or he notices and he just doesn't care. He opens the door – he hasn't locked it, the idiot – and leads me inside. I snatch my hand away from him. As soon as I'm sure he isn't going to _touch _me again, I take a look at his home. I frown at the sight.  
It's not horrible, I guess; the walls are a calm shade of grey. The floor is a dark mahogany. But it's just so... _messy!_ My apartment might not be the cleanest place in the world, but it's an organized mess. This is just crap and dirty clothing all over the fucking place. I am thoroughly disgusted by the sight of Deidara's old underwear slung carelessly over a chair. I turn to glare at him; he's smiling sheepishly at me.  
"Maybe I should have cleaned, un...?"  
"That you should, brat. That you should."  
He _pouts_ – again I loathe his childishness – and crosses his arms over his chest.  
"Hey! Don't call me a brat!"  
"I call you whatever the hell I _want_, brat."  
He sighs.  
"Fine... Danna."  
"What??"  
"Danna. You're my Danna now. If you can call me brat, then I can call you Danna, un."  
I think about this for a moment.  
"I guess. Now, are we going to eat or not?"  
"Oh! Right, sorry, I forgot about that. Come, un."  
He leads me into the kitchen. On the table is... nothing? I blink once, twice. No. No food.  
"...brat? What the hell?"  
He smirks mischiveously and steps closer to me.  
"I was thinking maybe you'd let me have a bit of Sasori for dinner, un..."  
I'm shocked and disgusted, utterly disgusted, by his sudden approach. When he leans in to, apparently, steal a kiss, I snap out of my dazed state and push him away with all my power. His thin frame slams into a wall and he lets out a yelp of pain, staring horrifiedly at me.  
"Danna, what are you doing, un?!"  
"What are _you _doing, brat?! Where did you get the impression that I would let you do _anything _to me? Goodbye, Deidara. Do me a favor and don't call me again."  
He can't but stare as I stomp out into the hallway, get into my shoes and leave his stupid annoying house.  
I amaze myself by actually finding my way back without his help. Well, I always have had a good memory. Once I'm back home, I grab the pasta I left in the fridge and start shoving it in my mouth. I ponder Deidara's actions – I don't want to think about him, I really don't, but I can't help it. He really must be the dumbest person in the world to attempt something like that with me. Well, I can't imagine why he'd want to in the first place... but that's beside the point, of course. We only just met! I may not have any kind of experience regarding relationships, but I am quite sure that kissing strangers can't be any kind of right or proper. This just confirms my suspicions; he _is _a pathetic little whore after all. There's just no way I'm having lunch or dinner or _any _kind of meal with this freak. He's lucky I'm not strangling him right now!  
And then, as if I'm not irritated enough, the phone rings. I pick up and of course it's him. Of _course _it is. He's apologizing; it really, really pisses me off.  
"Listen here, brat! I don't care what you have to say; I don't ever want to see you again. You did something stupid, and that's it."  
"But I... I thought..."  
"You thought what?! You can't just go around hitting on everything that breathes!"  
"But I know you!"  
I can't think of anything to say. What's he on about?  
"We just met the other day, you moron."  
"No, we didn't! You did, but I... I've seen you before. In that store. I've planned my shopping trips after yours. You mostly go there on thursdays, in the evening; that one the other day was a coincidence. I've been watching you for several months. I've never dared to talk to you... that's why I was so scared. I don't usually go around asking random people out, you know. I'm sorry."  
I stand there for perhaps a minute, just staring at the phone. A stalker. An actual stalker. What the _hell_?  
"Are you serious?!"  
"Yes."  
"I... wow. That's... insane."  
And I laugh. I can't believe it myself, and I want it to stop, but I laugh. I laugh and I laugh until I'm all out of laughter. I haven't laughed in a very long time.  
"You did all that? For _me_?"  
"Well, yes", he says, stunned.  
"You're an idiot, you know. I think I might like you a little."  
"I.. _what_?"  
"You might be stupid, and crazy, and altogether too _girly_, and I'll probably regret this, but no one's ever gone through that much trouble for me. You might be a few weeks of fun, if nothing else."  
"I don't know if that's a compliment."  
"It's as much of a compliment as you'll ever get from me, brat. Want to go somewhere tomorrow?"  
"Like a date?"  
"Moron. Of course it's a date."


End file.
